


A work of art and tragedy

by candidtxt



Series: Fortune's Fools [1]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Sad Ending, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candidtxt/pseuds/candidtxt
Summary: The statue standing in the center of the gallery happens to be alive. Taehyun has one day every two hundred years to find his soulmate and break his curse. This time around, he's determined to finally beat fate when Beomgyu walks into the museum that day. Can Beomgyu fall in love with Taehyun within a day, or will Taehyun pass another century in stone?
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Kang Taehyun
Series: Fortune's Fools [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831756
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	A work of art and tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> \- hello, this is my first one-shot + work on ao3 ! im not sure how to work this website yet but i will soon hopefully !   
> \- this is not edited   
> \- tysm for reading and i hope you enjoy :)

The museum was established as a way for the owner to preserve and exhibit what they percieved as works of art. 

Their most valued piece was the one with no origin. The air of mystery around it attracted attention from critics, reporters and the people. What could have inspired the artist to create such delicacy? Had the artist poured too much of themselves into it that should they see it again, it would reflect too much of who they are, therefore wished to remain anonymous? How could the sculpture be found bare and unprotected on the streets? 

When the ribbon was cut, and the museum opened, it was the talk of the town. It balanced on the back of a water fountain, forming a moat between the regular mortal and the art it served to protect. The art became a part of the flowers and vines behind it, carefully framed by flowers of yellows, purples and whites, secured tight by vines, as if they were afraid to let it go. Its left arm was raised towards the sky, fingers outstretched; its right over its chest, head hung low. 

It stood in the center of the sculpture gallery, under patterned glass where streaks of sunlight would enter and reflect onto the inferior sculptures. The light drew attention to each and every one’s unique features. For some, it was its meaning. The way they presented the human emotions of bravery, love, or grief. Others stood to protect and stand guard over weaklings. And lastly, there were the statues that depicted the art in the human body. It was the way each curl had a life of its own, or the roughness of each feather on their wings, or each fold of their tunics. 

But for the focal point of the gallery, its meaning remains unclear. For years people have theorized the meaning behind the masterpiece. Did it yearn for freedom? Did it hope to touch the stars? What shameful despair did it convey on its pained expression and hung head? 

It posed for centuries waiting for an answer. Its colour began to wash away in streaks, leaves began to sprout from the cracks, the slow painful death of art, and decaying process of the human body playing right before everyone’s eyes. 

Its time to reveal its truth finally came. 

Two thousand full moons later, one finally passed over the museum, shone through the glass ceiling and basked the statue in its white light. 

Slowly, the fingers on its left hand curled into a fist, and its left arm fell heavy to its side. It staggered in its place as it lifted its head painfully to meet the moon. It broke the vines’ restraints, the leaves and petals falling into the water. Colour returned to his skin, the veins in his hands appearing blue and green again, the clothes that sucked on his body released him. 

He blinked once, twice; curled and uncurled his fists; turned his head left and right. His mind worked to remember and replay his fogged memories. His stone tomb melting away. 

He took small steps around the brim of the fountain, and took his first step off the pedestal, but fell instantly onto the marble floor. Even the pain of crashing didn’t even bother him, he was glad to be able to feel physical pain and the cold. 

He got to his knees and latched his hands over the edge of the fountain, pulled himself close and leaned down to look at his jagged reflection in the water. Brown eyes, messy hair, fair skin. Nothing has changed. He has not aged a day. 

He dipped his hands into the water and let the coolness revive his ability to feel. He sighed in relef and looked up at the moon. Two hundred years had passed. 

Taehyun was free at last. But not for long. 

No, he thought to himself. I won’t be trapped again. Tomorrow, he’ll walk in, like he has for the past millenium, and I will leave this all behind once and for all. 

But for now, there was much to explore in the museum. 

Beomgyu had a passion for arts. Whether it was music, performance or visual arts, he wanted to learn about it all. So, when he had saved up enough money, he purchased another ticket to take in the glory that was the famous museum. 

It was often packed, and that day was no different, but most visitors explored in pairs. Beomgyu couldn’t help feeling out of place. 

Until he saw a boy standing by a pillar at the entrance, looking just as lost and out of place. It must have been magic, there could not be a logical explanation behind the way the sun hit his face, the way he did not even look real, the way he made him feel like he was looking at something he was not worthy of seeing. Had he not been fidgeting, Beomgyu would have believed he were a part of the gallery. 

Fascinated, Beomgyu stepped up to the person and asked, “are you okay? You look lost.” 

The boy met his eyes with an intense gaze. “I’m fine. Just not familiar with the museum.”

“Then let’s explore together.” He offered, smiling. “I’m Choi Beomgyu.” 

The boy hesitated for a moment before he told him he was called Kang Taehyun. He wondered why. 

They reached the sculpture gallery at last. Finally, Beomgyu thought, he would be able to see the famous sculpture in all its glory. 

But golden barriers with red velvet ropes had been set up around the water fountain. A sign notified the disappointed visitors that the sculpture had been stored away, and a new one would take its place soon. 

“Oh.” Beomgyu frowned, trying to desperately hide his disappointment. “I was hoping to finally see the statue everyone talked about. Guess I was too late, huh.” He sighed. 

“What about the statue?” Taehyun asked. 

“You’ve never heard of it?! The museum is famous for it, its origins are unexplained and no one knows what it means. How could art not have a meaning? I came to see it…” 

“Is there anything else you’re looking forward to in the museum?” 

“We’ve looked in every room already. So no.” 

“Then how about we get out of here?” 

Beomgyu looked at him in surprise, his cheeks flushed red. “W-What are you saying?” 

“Beomgyu, could I make you fall in love with me in a day?” He asked, taking one of his hands. 

He looked at their intertwined hands, then back at Taehyun. He answered uncertainly, “I would like to see you try.” 

To step out into the real world for the first time, to feel the gentle breeze go through him, to feel the warmth of a human companion, to be reminded he was human with his soulmate was all he could have asked for.

It filled Taehyun with joy and warmth to see that he hadn’t changed. Sure, his mannerisms and pattern of speech changed with the time period, but no matter the universe, his soulmate was the same. 

Beomgyu told him about his dreams of becoming a singer, of being able to create and share his own art to the world. Taehyun learned he still played the guitar and composed songs. He wanted to be reminded of it all. To know everything about him in the short period of time they had left. 

At hour nineteen, they were sitting by the seaside, watching the sunset. Taehyun ran one hand over the bumps of uneven rock, and breathed in the salty sea air. Beomgyu rested his head on his shoulder, his arm looped around his, fingers laced together. The colours he had last seen reappeared in front of him. The way the fiery sun picking hues of orange, purple and red to signal its farewell, dark blues preparing the shut its curtains. 

Hour twenty three. A sudden spasm reminded him of the time. He stopped in his tracks and waited for it to pass. Then Taehyun looked up at the sky. The moon was preparing its entrance from the clouds. Its silver light made his skin tingle. 

“Taehyun?” Beomgyu asked, looking back at him with concern. 

“We… we have to go somewhere. Quick.” He replied. 

“Where? It’s late, we should both go home.” Beomgyu said. “We can always go out another time. Tomorrow if you’d like.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll have till tomorrow.” Taehyun’s grip on his hand tightened. “How do we get back to the museum?” 

“The museum is closed.” 

Taehyun shook his head.

“Taehyun, it says on the website it closes at eight. What do you mean it’s not?”

“Trust me. Please.” 

The moment the bus stopped at the entrance of the museum, Taehyun ran off the bus, dragging Beomgyu behind him and through the unlocked gates of the museum. His body was fighting the numbing sensation beginning to creep up on him again. Running helped. He fidgeted the whole bus ride, tapping his fingers on the glass, rolling his shoulders, twisting his upper body. 

The alarms began to blare the moment they stepped past the doors, the red flashing lights guiding them through the maze. 

“What are we doing here?!” Beomgyu cried as Taehyun pulled them into the sculpture gallery. “The security’s going to catch us any minute.” 

“You have to kiss me,” was Taehyun’s explanation as he dashed to the water fountain and frantically began pushing over the barriers. “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

“Are you insane?! In this place?! Taehyun, we’re going to go to jail!” 

“I’ll explain everything later, please, you have to kiss me, before the moon passes and I—“ 

“No! What the fuck are you talking about?—“ 

“Beomgyu, I’m cursed!” His voice echoed through the room. “You’re my soulmate, and I’ve been trying to find you for forever and a day. I can’t go another century in stone, please—“ 

“That doesn’t even make sense—“ 

“Look!” Taehyun shoved his hand in his face. Stone had begun to make its way down his fingers from his fingertips. His movements grew stiffer, his clothes falling flat and tight to his body. “Please, please, you’re my soulmate, it’s been decided by fate milleniums ago, there is no other way to break this curse. 

“You don’t believe me, you don’t remember me, but I always have. Every time I see you you’re just as wonderful as the last time. And every time, I’m so close to having you and being free, but then I pass more centuries regretting, thinking of how close I’d been, and if I had just been quicker, you would be mine—“

Taehyun staggered. Stone began to close around his face like rough streaks of grey paint, his feet fastened to the edge. 

Taehyun’s cooling hands held his face, Beomgyu leaned forward eagerly, closing his eyes to shut out the view of Taehyun’s petrifying body, the space between them closing in the slowest pace imaginable. 

Beomgyu’s lips met stone. The hands cupping his face turned cold and the light touch of his fingers brushing his cheek pressed hard into the bone. He snapped his eyes open. His heart sank. 

Vines slithered out from the bushes behind him and pulled him into the embrace of a thousand flowers, repositioning him onto the marble, imprisoning him once again.

Its hands were the perfect distance to cup its lover’s face, eyes half closed, body leaned forward for a kiss. A vine circled down his arm, a white flower blossomed in his palm. A streak of black ran down the side of its face. 

Alas, the statue posed for the impossible longing to be with its lover, its yearning for happiness, freedom. Taehyun was his own artist, and for the next centuries, he would stand as a work of art and tragedy.

**Author's Note:**

> \- thank you so much for making it to the end!  
> \- i wrote this a while back when i was really in mY FEELS  
> \- you can find the twitter version here: https://twitter.com/yvorejuns/status/1261959044694028289?s=20
> 
> THANK YOU AGAIN FOR READING AND PLS DO LOOK FORWARD TO MY OTHER WORKS <3


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